


As a Thief

by nitorisource



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-14 07:59:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2184000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nitorisource/pseuds/nitorisource
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More or less follows the myth of the abduction of Persephone, with Sousuke as the god of the underworld and Makoto as his stolen bride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Why would you do this?” Makoto demands. He’s trying his best to appear furious and confident, but the way he has to bite back a sob at the end of his sentence gives away just how terrified he is. After all, he’s sitting in the chariot belonging to the God of the Underworld, stowed away somewhere underground. As much as he loves the smell of earth, he finds himself suffocating and slightly panicked in the damp, dark space.

“T-take me back. Take me back to Haru!”

His captor merely steps down from the chariot, black robes spilling behind him, then offers his hand out without so much as glancing Makoto’s way. He’s been silent this entire trip, right from the moment the earth beneath Makoto’s feet split open to release Sousuke’s black horses.

Makoto was only trying to pick flowers, as he often does when he can’t sleep, and he spotted a variety he’d never encountered before. As soon as he plucked it from the grassy field, Hades made his appearance. He screamed of course, as loudly as he could - screamed for Haru, who was some distance away by the river, hanging with the nymphs there. The inky sky carpeted with faraway stars, which somehow only got farther and farther from his outstretched fingertips, was the last things Makoto saw before being swallowed by the ground. If Haru ever heard his cries, he wouldn’t know.

His mind is still reeling from the act of being kidnapped and every nerve in his body wants to recoil from the god’s gesture - but Makoto catches a glimpse of the teal, downcast eyes on his surprisingly sorrowful expression. Hades is hardly spoken about by the other gods and all Makoto really knows is that the associated name Sousuke is often uttered derisively, with a hint of slight disgust, which is why he expected someone with more sickening and cruel behavior.

But before he can give himself a chance to feel sorry for this god, Makoto remembers that those blue eyes are not the shade he wants; that he was snatched away from Haru, from the open skies of the surface, and from the groups of flowers that bloomed from the earth beneath his touch, all with little hope of being welcomed by those sights again.

His heart twists as he takes a deep breath, sets his teary-eyed face in defiance, and all but stumbles right out from the chariot. He winces from the fingers that reflexively dart out to catch catch him, Sousuke backing off at the obvious terror welling up in those green eyes.

He sighs, shoulders drooping forward almost unnoticeably, before leading Makoto out of the small, cramped hallway.

Makoto can’t help but loosen with relief when they emerge into what appears to be the interior of Sousuke’s home. He was prepared for a vast, craggly cavern layered in bones and skulls, with a river of sludge and blood and human remains leading down a path of fire and wailing - as someone living and immortal, he’s never had to imagine what the descent to the underworld would look like. Perhaps his fears are manifested outside of this home, but he’s not keen on exploring to find out any time soon.

Even so, it’s a small victory, because this place seems to be decorated as a constant reminder of pain and loneliness. The pervasive darkness is disrupted only by a few weakly burning torches, casting ugly shadows across every wall and floor, and Makoto swears he can see faint tortured faces in the rough walls that are always suspiciously blank and unassuming whenever his eyes dart over to the source of movement. Just standing here and glancing around gives him a heightened sense of tension and uneasiness he’s never quite experienced before during his easy, laidback life, as though he’s expecting a tragedy to occur anytime now.

It’s when he’s led through the maze-like halls of the vast house to a certain room that Makoto finally gets a good look at his abductor’s face. Just as he was surprised to find his behavior more pleasant than it should be, he notes that Sousuke is far more… handsome than one would expect from a god that dwells almost exclusively with underground spirits and terrors.

In this form, Sousuke is taller than Makoto, though by a small margin, and he’s well-built as well. He’s clad in dark colored regal garb that covers most of his pale skin, which makes sense considering how cold it is here. His raven black hair is cut shorter than Makoto’s golden-brown locks, and Sousuke’s eyebrows are almost constantly furrowed to give him an irritated yet contemplative demeanor. As expected of a god, his face is smooth and well-angled, eyes a piercing and shifting shade of unique teal, and there’s no mistaking the air of authority he carries with him.

“This is your room,” he says brusquely, the heavy, gold-leafed doors pried open by two faceless, translucent figures. Sousuke ushers Makoto inside, arm hovering behind the small of his back but not quite touching him, and the doors heave shut behind them.

If there was ever a time to panic, the time is now. Trapped again in an enclosed area, Makoto’s thoughts fill with apprehension of Sousuke’s real motives behind taking him so suddenly, and his body tenses in an unfamiliar defensive stance. No matter what, he won’t allow this man to touch him, even if - 

“There are clothes for you to change into. If you need anything else, a shade will come to assist you. You need only say the word.” The words leave his mouth in an orderly, bored fashion as though he’s already rehearsed them to himself countless times, and he turns to leave as soon as he’s done. As if on cue, another ghostly figure materializes to reopen the doors.

“But - that’s all? That’s all you have to say to me?” Suddenly, from an unknown source, Makoto feels anger begin to surge behind his words. “You take me here and that’s all you say?”

Sousuke pauses right before the door and, again, his shoulders heave forward with some kind of heavy weight. As though he has reason at all to feel disappointed, Makoto thinks harshly.

“Why did you take me?”

Silence.

“What do you want to do with me?”

Sousuke finds himself studying the enamel of the carved door.

“I’ll… I’ll do anything you ask for, as long as you return me to the world of the living. Please.”

Makoto’s voice sounds broken, and Sousuke wonders where that burst of anger had gone. It would be easier if Makoto was angry, furious; screaming and shouting insults and derision befitting a foul, unwanted god such as him.

But, if Makoto were like that, Sousuke would never have bothered with him.

“I thought… the underworld would benefit having a queen to rule beside me.”

Makoto takes a moment to soak in those words before stammering, “And so you chose me? You chose to take me against my will for that reason?” He pauses, taking in a ragged breath of air, mirthless and half-hysteric laughter leaving his lips before continuing, “I don’t want this. I don’t want to be your queen.”

“Then you can be another king of the underworld, if that bothers you so much. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“That is not the reason I’m so upset!” Makoto takes a step forward, fists clenched at his side, but Sousuke doesn’t even bother to spare him a backward glance. Makoto’s anger mounts at how sick this situation truly is. How can Sousuke have the nerve to commit this crime, yet be unable to look his captive in the eye for more than two seconds?

Sousuke makes another move to exit.

“You’re really just leaving me here, on my own?” Makoto ventures, voice trembling. Now, the weight of his situation is finally beginning to settle over him, and he’s afraid that once those doors closed for a final time that night, then this nightmarish fate of his will be finally sealed.

“I assumed these sleeping arrangements would be most comfortable for you.”

“If you’ve already kidnapped me, there’s no need to spare my preferences, is there?” He means to sound bitter, but fear, once again, has crept into his voice. 

“If there is anything you need, the shades will attend to you.”

“How do you know I won’t just flee from this place?”

“Because there is no leaving the underworld once you enter.” Once those cold words leave his mouth, Sousuke pauses, expecting another outburst from Makoto. When only silence ensues, he finally takes his leave and tries not to look as desperate to do so as he really is.

Out in the dark hallway, alone again, he allows himself to exhale the breath he’d been holding for too long. This is a hopeless situation, he knows. There’s no way he can mend the damage of stealing Makoto here against his will, and he sees no chance of the god willingly accepting him as his husband.

He’s sure that no matter the years or decades Sousuke is willing to wait for him, there is just no warming up to the idea of spending an eternity in the underworld.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally got this out of my system!!! elaboration of [this](http://soumakofics.tumblr.com/post/95070720916/greek-mythology-au-where-hades-sousuke-steals)  
> let me know if I made some absurd mistakes?? been a while since I read up on myths. i changed. a few things tho  
> (anyway pfft this makes makoto rin's and haru's lovechild,,. the relationships between greek gods is so whack)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> v short update!! cue rin, the god of gods and being a smug asshole, mostly. sorry it's been so long i'll try to update at a more reasonable pace. try try

The morning after Makoto vanishes, Haruka isn’t particularly concerned; at least, he doesn’t want to be. Makoto does have a habit of wandering off, after all, and he’s sure that in time his angel will turn up. It’s difficult for Makoto to go too long without the person he not only depends on most, but cares and trusts most as well. At least, this is what Haru feels. He’s kept an eye on that child of his ever since he was blessed enough to have him by his side, and he’s only ever wanted to protect Makoto from the dangers of both the human world and the meddlesome realm of the gods.

Makoto isn’t a child, though. In fact, he’s grown up taller and bigger than Haru, though his gentle and somewhat timid heart has gone unchanged.

Haru allows a day to go by without doing anything.

The next morning, with Makoto still away, Haru begins to ask around. He asks the nymphs that dwell in the rivers and forests that Makoto often visits, the creatures and animals that so lovingly crowd around Makoto when he shows up, even enters the waters of Poseidon's realm and the riptide shores of every beach Makoto has visited. Everyone he comes across laments that Makoto has not been around lately, that they miss him dearly, and Haru moves on. His heart is wrought with nothing but panic - that, and a growing, sickening suspicion of who may be at fault here.

* * *

 

“Rin.”

Haru’s voice is cold, demanding. It’s a tone no one would dare use against the mighty King of Olympus; no one but one of his pissed off siblings perhaps, and considering the fury that rolls off of Haru in palpable waves, it’s a small wonder that he hasn’t done anything more drastic than this.

A week of searching has brought him nothing. He’s no closer to finding Makoto than the day he began, and by now, his marathon of lonely, sleepless nights has rid him of every ounce of patience in his body.

“Ah, Haruka. You almost never visit Olympus. It’s a pleasure to see you here today,” the redhead grins, sitting upright in his throne.

“I’d never come without reason,” Haru spits out. It’s true that he detests the lavish lifestyle of the gods on Olympus and much more prefers to stay on earth, doing his job, and heeding the needs of the mortals that supplicate for his help.

“And what reason is that?”

“Spare me the mockery. You know exactly why. Where is he? My son.” His voice cuts through the light atmosphere of the temple around him.

“You know, Makoto is my child as well.”

“Oh? You remember? Considering how many children you father daily, it’s a wonder you keep track of them.”

Rin’s smug lips twitch down at the comment, his mood quickly darkening.

“Wherever Makoto is, he isn’t here, I can assure you that. I preside over the heavens and have seen no disturbance regarding him. He’s fine, I’m certain.”

“Then you ought to know exactly where he is.”

“I do not. I don’t have the time to watch over every petty affair on the world below, nor do I have time to babysit him. That’s your job, isn’t it? I suggest you simply wait for him to return. Perhaps you should have kept a closer eye on him instead.”

The other gods now stand about whispering to themselves as the scene unfolds. Rin’s word is law and there’s little Haru can do. For now, there’s such a fire to his eyes that it might seem he’ll attack Rin out of frustration, but after exhaling sharply through his nose and shutting his eyes, he seems to let all that anger dissipate.

“Fine,” is all he bites out before turning on his heels and returning to the mortal world. If Rin wants to play his petty games, then Haruka will gladly indulge him.

* * *

 

“You look terrible, Sousuke.”

Sousuke offers a flat laugh in response to Rin, and he allows silence to stretch out between them for several moments. They both sit against the gravelly, bone-scattered banks of Styx, watching as Charon ferries over another boatful of wailing souls.

“I can’t say for certain that this was the right thing to do,” Sousuke says quietly.

“Well, Haru wouldn’t have willingly handed his beloved son over to you,” Rin scoffs.

“Yes, but - “

“And Makoto would never have given you a chance had you _asked_ for his hand, either.”

The bluntness of his words hits Sousuke solidly in the chest.

“Still. Taking him by against his consent will not force him to love me.”

“Where’s the need for that? Love? You said you needed a queen, or someone to rule beside you. While in your domain, he has no choice but to participate in your marriage ceremony, correct?”

Right. Absolutely right. _But that isn’t how I want this to go. I don’t want to force anything else onto him._

Sousuke does not voice those words aloud.

_I probably should not have allowed you to sway me._

He does not say this aloud either.

“Whatever regrets you might have now, I suggest you cast them away. The damage is done, Sousuke.”

“I know that.” Of course he can’t just set Makoto free to the upper world. Not now that he’s so close to the beautiful god he’s only caught glimpses of from afar; not now that he might have a chance to ease his own eternal loneliness with the one being that can bring to life his cold heart with nothing more than a golden, beaming smile. He’s far too selfish to just let him go.

“Good. Then I’ll be taking my leave. Do take good care of my son while you have him here. His darling mother is worried sick, though I assure you he’s still unaware of just where his son is. You’re still safe.”

For a moment, Sousuke wonders how Rin can live so easily. How he can come and go in whatever realm he chooses, how he can flit from lover and lover even with a powerful, wrathful wife to rule beside him. He dashes the thought away and simply nods as the redhead vanishes to leave him standing alone, his heart still impossibly heavy.

He wants to go back to Makoto, to take every chance he can to convince the young god that the love he holds for him is true, but how can he do that when terror and malice is so clearly contorted on the beautiful brunet’s delicate features? He doubts that locking Makoto into his room, no matter how lavishly decorated it is, will do anything to soften him from the shock of being taken away so suddenly.

In any case, there is still the matter of introducing Makoto to the idea that their wedding ceremony is to take place in just one week.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto finds himself, willingly or not, adjusting to life in the Underworld and the small pockets of life that accompany it. Sousuke attempts to bring up the marriage, only to be interrupted with a perhaps not-so-lovable Momo.

“Ai. You have looked after him well, I assume?” Sousuke disrobes from his official, regal clothing while one of the servant shades stands timidly at the metal doors to his large bedroom. Even as a god, his muscles ache under the strain of overseeing so many cases into the Underworld and having to make decision after decision amid the incessant wails of those sentenced to Tartarus - not to mention his earlier meeting with Rin, the threat that Haruka poses over the situation, and his own heart-rotting guilt.

“Y-yes, Lord Sousuke!” the gray-haired boy answers a little too enthusiastically. His translucent cheeks somewhat fill with color as his eyes turn abashedly to the stone ground and he says, “However, Lord Makoto refuses to eat anything. And when taken to the hot springs to first bathe, he lingered there for several hours, until I returned to fetch him.”

Sousuke’s fingers pause and hover over the strings of his plain tunic, though a few moments later he composes himself and simply shakes his head.

“If - if I may, Lord Sousuke,” Ai continues, his voice trembling, “Lord Makoto, he seems - he seems very unhappy here. He has hardly spoken more than a handful of words, and his eyes are dim and full of sorrow. Perhaps - perhaps he is simply lonely?”

Sousuke’s head turns down, uncompelled by those words, so Ai frantically continues, “--I’m sure that once he sees how truly and faithfully you care for him, Lord Makoto will easily accept--”

“Ai, would you please inform Makoto of his summoning to dinner, tonight?” Sousuke interjects in a steady voice.

He gapes wordlessly for a few moments as his mind swells with embarrassment. “Y-Yes, my lord! Right away!” He bows once before scurrying down the hall.

 

* * *

 

As soon as he stops by the kitchen to call forth dinner preparations, Nitori makes his way through the maze-like halls of the estate and slowly creeps up on the glowing, golden doors to Makoto’s bedroom.

While Sousuke was away, Nitori has been going back and forth through this same torch-lit corridor, each time bearing a different offering: food, clothing, scrolls for reading. Each was politely refused by the sullen god, though Makoto did attempt a small smile with each word - when it came to the scrolls, Makoto had to painfully admit that he could not read, which left Nitori floundering with panicked apologies as he just about dissipated from shame.

“L-Lord Makoto?” he calls timidly through the tiny space between the carved doors.

There’s a long pause before a voice from the other end says quietly, “You may enter.” The god has had trouble remembering to voice the command aloud - it’s one of the rules in the estate to express permission like this. “Also, I asked you not to call me Lord Makoto. Just Makoto is fine, Nitori.”

The title is already on the tip of his tongue as Nitori motions for the doors to open, so he swallows his words and instead gets to the point. “Tonight, Lord Sousuke requests your presence at dinner. It is to begin promptly in two hours.”

“I assume I have no right to refuse the King of the Underworld,” Makoto remarks in the same dead voice he’s been using with Nitori all day.

“Th - that’s not true. If you would not like to attend, I’m sure Lord Sousuke will understand, and will instead call for you another night.”

For the first time, Nitori watches as the god perks up, his green eyes glinting with surprise. “Is that so? I find that hard to believe…”

“Lord Sousuke is - you see, he is not as cruel as you might think of him,” Nitori begins hesitantly. “Surely, you believe that to be true as well? It’s just that his realm, and the reputation he has among other gods, and sometimes his outward appearance leads others to assume--”

“Nitori.”

The shade ceases speaking immediately, though he looks as though he’s holding his breath with a dozen more sentences of explanation lying just behind his closed lips. Somehow, all of the restlessness and uneasiness Makoto’s felt all day dispels at the sight of how genuinely Nitori seems to defend his master - after all, this is far from the first time since meeting the shade, and it’s endearing, almost. Makoto cannot find it in himself to rebuke what Nitori has already told him, even if the person in question is his kidnapper.

“For now, I will take your word for it, then,” Makoto says, his face easing into a smile that lights Nitori’s own face with relief. “If someone such as yourself is willing to speak out of turn for a master such as Sousuke, then--”

“O-out of turn? Lord Makoto, no - that’s not what I - I didn’t mean to offend--!”

“I was only joking,” Makoto says quickly, a light laugh escaping his mouth.

“Joke… joking?”

* * *

 

Two hours later, as promised, Nitori leads Makoto from his room and to the dining hall he has yet to visit. Along the way, Makoto easily engages Nitori in conversation since he’s more than glad to have someone speak so lively in a place like this, though as soon as they reach the ceiling-high doors of their destination Makoto quiets considerably.

Lord Sousuke, pacing alongside the lengthy dining table, seems to sense this shift as well as soon as the doors open wide for them. Nitori bows and exits quickly as Makoto enters the dining hall slowly, gauging the somewhat stunned expression on the might god’s face - for some reason, Makoto’s heart cinches at the thought that Sousuke truly did not believe he would accept the dinner invitation.

Sousuke attempts a shoddy greeting of, “Makoto, you look well tonight,” before moving to pull a chair out. Unlike the way he refused Sousuke’s offered arm from the chariot on the night he was taken, Makoto complacently accepts this show of hospitality, which again leaves Sousuke somehow shocked.

As Sousuke takes his seat on the opposite end of the table, Makoto allows his eyes to travel up and down the assortment of dishes laid out for them - just for the two of them it seems by the lack of other seats or dinner guests, although Makoto is certain there’s no way they’ll finish a fraction of the food. There are bowls stacked high with different fruits, some of them not even in season, which already leaves Makoto with a bitterly nostalgic taste in his mouth. On some plates are savory dishes of game and ribs, while in the middle of the table are intricately prepared desserts - too far to reach from where Makoto currently sits, he notes with a slight frown.

“Is none of this pleasing to you? Would you like something else prepared?”

Makoto jumps at the suddenness to Sousuke’s voice, but he quickly lowers his eyes and answers, “I don’t have much of an appetite right now.”

“Even as an immortal being, it is best that you eat regularly to keep up your strength.”

Makoto keeps his hands folded politely in his lap as he again surveys the layout of food. Sousuke seems adamant against touching anything until his guest chooses something first, but Makoto is wrapped up in thoughts of whether this is what Sousuke has looked forward to every night for the past few centuries. He’s certain that those like Nitori and the other shades cannot eat even if they wanted to. Has Sousuke only ever eaten alone like this?

Eventually, he chooses the plate nearest to him - nothing more than simply prepared fresh vegetables, much like the ones Haruka had taught him to coax into hearty growth at the touch of his fingers. He has to push those memories aside as he takes his first bite, finally filling his admittedly empty stomach, and he glances up to catch the eased expression that settles instantly on Sousuke’s own face.

It’s the first time Makoto has seen the god’s voice void of utter stress and worry, and for some reason this simple action has Makoto swelling with the same feeling he’s gotten from speaking with Nitori - the uncomfortable tightness in his chest that he first assumed would never leave is now, no matter how marginally, somewhat alleviated. Nitori’s earlier words ring through his mind: Sousuke is not as cruel as you think of him.

“I hope you’ve found your room to be adequate. Your clothes, your bedding, your--”

“Yes. Yes, it’s fine,” Makoto says, cutting him off. He finds himself compelled to add, “Thank you.” There it is again, the somewhat panicked hint of relief spreading over Sousuke’s face. A heavy silence curtains between them as they both half-heartedly pick at their food, each of them sneaking glances up at the other, though Sousuke seems to be the one more bashful whenever their eyes happen to meet.

What exactly was Makoto expecting tonight? Utter coldness and harsh words, unfair demands and derision? Instead, he’s sitting before someone who seems pained with every word he utters, who moves so stiffly during something as common as dinner. Instead of acting as someone hardened by the cruelty of the Underworld, Sousuke only seems exhausted of it and even awkward due to the lack of living beings to interact with.

“Ah, Makoto.” Sousuke pauses. The name leaves his mouth tentatively, as though he’s afraid to mishandle it. Makoto actually cringes for him. “Right now may not be the best time to discuss this, but about our marriage ce-- “

Makoto nearly chokes at hearing the word ‘marriage’ and the supposed ‘ceremony’ that was to come after it. Just as Sousuke abruptly stands up, the doors on the other end of the hall slam open and someone comes rushing in - another translucent being, though this is not Nitori.

“Lord Makoto!” the rather animated apparition says with purpose as he runs towards the seated god.

“Momo - no, that isn’t necessary, I can--”

“Lord Sousuke, do not fret! Look, I have wine!”

Momo comes to a skidding stop beside Makoto as the god attempts to say, “Really, I’m fine, I’m not choking,” but the shade tips the wine bottle harshly over Makoto’s already-filled goblet. The liquid splashes out and with it the cup sways to the side, spilling all over Makoto’s lap while he sits there stunned.

Several quiet seconds pass by before the vast hall erupts with Momotarou’s frantic apologies as he tries to wipe at the wide, dripping stain. “I’m sorry, Lord Makoto! Really, I didn’t mean it - I still don’t really know how to hold things properly while I’m like this - but Nitori has been teaching me - I’ll clean this up right away, I’m sorry!”

“It’s - it’s fine, please, no need to apologize so fervently!” he tries to say.

“Momo.”

The two of them freeze at the sound of Sousuke’s authority-ridden voice, and somehow Momotarou goes paler than he was before.

“Lord Sousuke--”

“Momotarou, listen to--”

“Please, please don’t send me back to Tartarus!” He turns his pale golden eyes to Makoto and says, “Lord Makoto, you’re the other ruler of this world, right? Don’t let him send me back!”

“I’m - I’m not - I don’t know--” Makoto sputters.

“Return to your quarters this instant, Momo.” There’s no hint of anger to Sousuke’s voice, which is good enough for the orange-headed shade. He bows several times before running back through the door from where he came. With the dining hall silent once more, Makoto releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding, and Sousuke lets out his own tired sigh. He seems to do that often, Makoto notes idly, as the god makes his way to his side.

“I apologize for the disturbance. Are you certain you are fine?” Sousuke picks up another cloth and seems intent on helping to wipe Makoto off, but his hand hesitates and instead he ends up simply handing the napkin off, face etched again with strain.

“It’s nothing more than wine. I assure you, I am more resilient than that,” Makoto tells him lightly.

“I don’t doubt your words,” Sousuke says, shoulders easing. “It would be best for you to change from those immediately. I will call for Ai, and he can--”

“Wait. What did Momo mean by sending him back to Tartarus?” he asks warily. Part of him assumes the worst after seeing such a frantic display of fear from the boy, but this time, Makoto does not allow his thoughts to race too far ahead of him.

Perhaps, Makoto was hoping to be proven wrong this time. There is no other explanation for the solace that spreads throughout his chest at how Sousuke’s face tinges with sensitivity; with vulnerability.

“Many of the souls I employ here have previously been sentenced to harsher punishments, mostly at the behest of the gods who felt they have been wronged.” He says this with a frown and Makoto wonders just how deep the divisions between him and the others truly are. “Several of them are nothing more than children, however. I could not bear to allow those innocent, such as Nitori and Momotarou, to dwell in such a place for eternity.”

There seems to be no ill-intent behind his words; no lies, no attempts at winning Makoto over with petty displays of admirable behavior.

“You have the power to do that?” Makoto asks with disbelief. He never would have guessed that someone so genuinely and kind-faced as Momo would have been cast away to such a despicable place - and all because of the petty feelings of an immortal god? He wonders, too, whether Sousuke is all that separates the mortal and godly worlds from the titans and monsters that would love nothing more than to exact their revenge.

“Only when the others are not looking,” Sousuke mutters. He pauses and swallows hard before continuing, “Momo - I’ve only recently brought him back. At first, he was absorbed by the trauma of spending so long in Tartarus. It’s understandable that he fears that place so strongly.”

The atmosphere is again no less than suffocating at this point. Part of Makoto feels the urge to reach out and comfort the god so obviously wrestling with suppressed suffering, but instead he manages to let out a weak laugh and says, “You have quite the lively cast in your home.” If Makoto knew no better, he would have mentioned how fatherly Sousuke almost acted, but he holds that comment back.

“You have yet to meet the likes of Uozumi and Minami,” Sousuke answers, brows lifting. He doesn’t bother to try correcting Makoto by saying, ‘This is your home as well, now,’ so he simply offers his hand. It had been a long night. If Makoto refuses him now…

“If you will allow me to escort you to your room?”

Makoto takes his hand. For the god of such a frigid realm, his skin is warm. Makoto wonders if it has always felt this way, or if, like the continuously easing expression on the god’s weathered face, this warmth is something new to them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> attempts to mitigate for slow updates with slightly longer ch. forgive me  
> also, other gods are on their way to fuck a few things up


End file.
